Deadly, I'm yours
by xhaiiro
Summary: A collection of Yami no Bakura x Seto Kaiba drabbles. Antagoshipping and implied Corruptshipping.
1. Unfathomable

According to some, the key to a dream's meaning is buried in the dreamer's past life. Though he vehemently denies it, Seto Kaiba is no exception: his dreams are of sand; of an endless desert stretched out before him; of unconditional loyalty, years of rigorous training and, eventually, of blood saturating his hands as everything he'd sworn to protect threatened to crash mightily down around him. These particular dreams do not seem to suffer the same limitations as ordinary dreams -- that is, they are not restricted to the few hours that Seto Kaiba indulges himself in sleep. They are constant; flashes of gold and red and _light _behind conscious thought. If he'd ever believed (or admitted to believing) the fairytales told to him by the other Yuugi, he might now concede that desciribing them as visions may not be so far removed from the truth as he claims. The most unsettling part of these dreams (visions, fantasies -- what are they, really?) is the reoccurring image of a certain white-haired thief -- the same thief, in fact, that sleeps next to him an impossible number of years later.

Bakura's dreams are less pleasant than Seto's; he is often jolted awake in awkward positions at equally awkward times of the morning, having thrashed himself awake mid-nightmare. The modern world is haunted by the ghosts of the past -- so much so that Bakura, fearless as he is, at times longs for an escape -- and the bleakness of his future; that the Pharaoh would fall and all the years spent _waiting _would finally be given purpose, but as time passes this becomes less likely. What Bakura needs is one more chance: a final, ultimate game that will not only knock the Pharaoh from the pedestal his little insignificant friends have raised him onto, but one that will _keep _the stubborn bastard down. Keep him down forever.

For now, though, he is content to remain here.

When these nightmares occur, Bakura only needs to tug lightly on Seto's arm and he will spring to life, placating the thief with soothing nonsense about net profits and standard protocol until the other is lulled back to sleep. Office talk can be surprisingly relaxing. It is no mark of consideration that motivates Seto to do this: it is simply because he is conscious and unnocupied during Bakura's violent awakenings, and it does not take much effort to soothe him -- if Seto tunes out and allows his mouth to operate automatically, he can almost lull _himself_ to sleep. Almost. Most of the time, however, Seto ends up thinking about his own words and abruptly realizes that there's work to be done.

Privately, Bakura half-believes that Seto doesn't sleep at all. He simply pretends. Perhaps this is to make Bakura feel at ease as he slumbers; perhaps because he drinks too much coffee during the daylight hours, or even because he considers sleep a waste of valuable work time (really, he's almost _married _to that company). Bakura doesn't know. Seto's motives are often veiled. While this would frustrate most people, it is an excitement to Bakura -- other mortals he has encountered in the modern day seemed less complex, somehow, nothing more than puppets to be manipulated the way Malik, his partner in battle city, demonstrated. Seto is different. He is truly an enigma, Bakura muses, nestling closer to the warmth of the other instinctively. A thief's instinct, sharp as ever. For a moment there is no response.

"Go to sleep." Seto murmurs, turning to face him. Bakura wonders how Seto knows he is still awake, though it is not entirely surprising. He trails his fingers through immaculately trimmed hair, admiring the contrast between his unruly white locks and the chestnut that crowns Seto's pale, stoic face. Sighing audibly, Bakura considers the possible parallels he could draw between them: over three thousand years have fused them together and at times Bakura feels like an old painting, his colors bleeding into Seto's as their habits overlap and intertwine. And yet this is the one thing Kaiba Seto cannot accept: that it really has been millennia since their first encounter; that the tale told by the Ishtar family does, in fact, have some grounding in reality and that all of this is _real_. The evidence that has been shown to Kaiba is irrefutable, yet he determinedly screws his eyes closed or looks away and manages to deny it even while his mind shows the memories real, tangible in front of him. Irrelevant, though. He'll believe in the end -- when the Pharaoh is on his knees, he is once again a priest and _there's nowhere else to look _-- or he'll perish in his attempt to run from the past, much like Bakura is slowly, steadily doing now. In so many ways, Bakura decides, they are the same.

_Seto Kaiba, this blind denial of your past has no place in your future. I'll see to that._

-- Yet, in others, they are still so unfathomable to one another.


	2. Quiet

**Quiet**

Kaiba Seto is a quiet person; his mannerisms smooth and movements paved with intent. He is clothed in striking silver, sleek and proud as the dragons that have grown to symbolize him.

Bakura is also a quiet person, though in a different sort of way. He is quiet like a prowling wolf, a knife to the back. Equally striking though more dangerous; bearing a promise of death underneath the outfit that owes him no representation (chosen by his host, _irrelevant_ to his persona).

Kaiba Seto knows this.

Though he prides himself on fearing nothing -- not the unknown, not the roughness of the way in which Bakura claims him -- Kaiba Seto cannot help but feel unnerved by his craving for Bakura; by the corruption that binds him to the thief; by his coarse hands and jagged edges.

The feelings of Kaiba Seto are nothing to Bakura. An amusement, at best. He invades the CEO's bedroom by night -- never bothering to hide from KaibaCorp's security - he's far too _talented _for that -- without fail; driven by the arrogant presumption that Kaiba Seto _shall not_ resist him. It is a firm belief: unchallengeable.

The pathetic thing, Kaiba Seto reflects -- bitterness evident in ice-cold eyes -- is that Bakura is repeatedly correct. Seto will not resist.

He simply can't.


	3. Look to the sky

By late evening, it had grown fairly dark in Kaiba Seto's bedroom. Winter had arrived early in Domino this year, it seemed. A nocturnal creature by nature, Seto's companion had been completely unbothered by the rapidly darkening sky, opting to sprawl across the bed and stare wistfully out of the bay window, ivory hair illuminated in the twilight. Inwardly, he smirked at the gradually brightening moon, juxtaposed against the sky. Really, if this was anywhere other than an office building, anyone other then the king of thieves -- ruthless; almost as cold and impersonal as Kaiba himself -- he could almost consider the night romantic. Almost.

Seto, however, was considerably less pleased by the early nights and shorter business hours that he was forced to endure. The meetings scheduled for late afternoon had been shifted to another day, simply because it was dark outside. Ridiculous. Time was a valuable resource, certainly not one to be wasted on the sky -- he'd always wondered how Bakura could spend so much time staring at it, inanimate; as if something all the way up there interested him. Work came first, whatever his fellow CEOs believed that the changing of the seasons dictated. Time was a constant pressure; if those fools wasted any more of his, they would pay dearly for it. Especially as he had a very demanding (and often mischievous) thief leeching every spare second of his time. It certainly wasn't helping matters. He tapped idly at the keys on his laptop, irked at having his day ruined.

"Continuing to work while you have a guest is _rude_, you know."

Bakura had taken to spending almost every day, except from the rare occasions that he would go out stealing -- or 'working', as he put it -- watching Seto typing frantically at his desk. It was a game they indulged in; never questioned, automatic -- every day it would play out exactly the same way: Kaiba would work, Bakura would pester him. Eventually Kaiba would close his laptop, stow the files on his desk in their respective cabinets, and Bakura would finally get what he wanted.

Over days and weeks, Seto often forgot about his presence, which was not something Bakura took kindly to. He'd make every attempt to distract Seto, but the CEO was accustomed to working with background noise, so these attempts went unheeded. Unprompted, Seto had once turned away from his computer screen and compared Bakura, aloud, to a puppy. A desperately clingy puppy, at that. Bakura had stalked out, and hadn't returned for the entire weekend, leaving a very bored Seto in his wake. That had been a lesson well learned: he'd upset the routine, and paid accordingly.

The tapping of Seto's laptop ceased completely.

However irritating life with the thief could be, Seto was forced to admit that there was some value in the comic relief provided by walking downstairs for coffee, and ending up face-to-face with an enraged thief, flailing around his kitchen with a toaster attached to a butcher knife. When he'd asked about it, Bakura had growled and thrown it at the wall, informing Seto that it 'simply would not switch on". Seto had nearly laughed out loud. It was unlikely that Bakura ever would come to terms with modern technology, but Seto found his struggles -- dare he admit it -- almost endearing. Not to mention hilariously funny to watch, but Seto would be damned if he was caught laughing in his own kitchen.

"Or have you fallen asleep?" Another harsh purr from behind him, and Seto realised that he hadn't touched his laptop in almost twenty minutes. He grunted, but didn't turn around. It wasn't time yet.

Bakura was barely audible as he approached. He'd long since abandoned gazing at cloud formations, and was now watching the back of Seto's head intently as he stalked, slightly crouched, towards the CEO. Seto did not even flinch as a pale hand entangled itself in his hair, yet he still shivered as Bakura's breath ghosted across the nape of his neck. "Must you sneak up on me like that? You know I dislike it." Somehow, he was able to keep his voice steady.

"That is why I do it." Bakura smirked, a skilled hand flicking across the desk. The laptop slammed violently shut, and he offered no other reply. Rough hands danced in Seto's hair, drawing him over to the window, coaxing him to follow. "If you're not too busy.." Seto rose robotically, as if by some magnetic force. _This wasn't part of the game. _He abandoned all hope of continuing his brooding session, and began to walk slowly towards Bakura. Though submitting himself to this compromised the structure of his day, Seto lacked the concentration to brood with such a distraction.. In terms of importance, work usually won out (until such times that the work was unnecessary, of course), but the act of brooding never won against Bakura's sheer determination to drag a reaction out of him.

"If that laptop breaks, you are _dead._" He murmured, though there was little conviction in his words.

Bakura barked a laugh tinged with bitterness and replied, "I've been dead all my life."

The thief leaned backwards as he allowed Seto to press him against the window. To _hell _with the game; this was so much better. He grinned devilishly as his lips attached themselves to Seto's neck, whispering against his skin.

"_Now, Kaiba Seto, I will show you the sky."_


End file.
